


cowboys

by TangerineBoxes



Series: Drabbles [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cowboys, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangerineBoxes/pseuds/TangerineBoxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>drabble written for an AU tumblr meme.  It's really fucking silly, and it was really fun to write</p>
            </blockquote>





	cowboys

Feuilly woke up feeling his head heavy. Of course. They were about to leave town for a few months, which meant a “whiskey takes up too much space so let’s drink what we can’t pack” night. He dropped his head, trying to hide himself from the sun already up outside of their window. 

But that was not his bed. He opened an eye, looking up to… bars.

That was new.

“‘Morning, Feuilly”

“‘Morning, Sheriff. If i may ask, what the hell?”

Enjolras, try as he might to hide it, looked amused. “You have one guess.”

The thing he thought was his bed, more commonly knows as his partner, Bahorel, was sound asleep, with a black eye and a small cut on his cheek. Feuilly knew that if could see his knuckles, he’d find them bruised. He reached up to check for swelling and cuts on his own face, but Enjolras noticed and explained “Even drunk, you are too fast for people to hit you. But according to Courfeyrac, you threw a few good punches” Oh, okay. Good. But…

"And why are we here, again?"

"Courfeyrac joked about arresting Bahorel for the bar fight. Bahorel said he liked the idea, since we’re closer to the bar than your room is, and said he would come if you came too. He said he needed a blanket." At that, Enjolras started to laugh. "The cell isn’t locked, and there is a bucket of water right there if you wanna wash your face" He finished, pointing to a wall, and went back to his desk.

Feuilly got up, grabbed the towel that was by the bucket, soaked it and used it to wash his face. Then he took the bucket inside the cell and kicked the bed where Bahorel was still asleep. When he reacted, Feuilly threw the water on him, the cold hit making Bahorel jump up. It had become a sort of tradition for them on departure days. The last one to wake up would be dragged out of bed mercilessly. Cold water was not as bad as they could get, but it was what Feuilly had at the moment.

"Good morning, hungover! Get up already, we gotta go"

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at http://tangerineboxes.tumblr.com


End file.
